


For Honor and Glory

by JayceCarter



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Slow Romance, Smut, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-09-24 16:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9769853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayceCarter/pseuds/JayceCarter
Summary: Danse doesn't know who he is anymore. When he meets a liberated synth named Glory, he see's his chance to figure it out. However, Glory doesn't have everything as together as she likes to let on. Can Danse and Glory figure out what it means to be alive together, or will all the ghosts of their past pull them back down? Between the Institute and the Brotherhood, there is no shortage of enemies determined to end them both, and their only chance at a future will be together.





	1. Chapter 1

Danse glared.

 

Not at anyone specifically, just a general glare he hoped would keep others away, sort of like a dog who snarls whenever anyone walks by.

 

It had worked so far, causing everyone in HQ to veer around him, leaving him to sulk by himself in his corner, sitting on someone’s mattress.

 

Nora had disappeared somewhere with Deacon, doing whatever the two got up to when no one else was around. He suspected something more than platonic friendship, but he’d never witnessed anything to be sure.

 

“You’ve got to move,” came a voice with enough annoyance Danse considered listening.

 

Almost.

 

“I don’t think so,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

 

A woman stepped into his line of sight. “You’re scaring Tinker Tom away from his mattress, and I can promise you, I am not sleeping next to that unwashed nut job. I woke up one time with Deacon beside me, and that was bad enough.”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Name’s Glory. If you won’t move, will you at least promise to stay there?”

 

“Why?”

 

She laid down on the mattress he was sitting on. “Because, as long as you’re sitting there, Tom will stay away.”

 

Danse watched as she rolled over, her back pressed to his side.  “You’re really going to sleep? With me right here?”

 

She lifted a knife and waved it toward him. “You try anything, I’ll unman you. Now, glare a little more quietly if you can manage it. I can hear your sulking from here.”

 

Danse frowned. “I’m not sulking.”

 

“Right, because your whole sitting in a fucking corner thing is the picture of mental health.”

 

“You wouldn’t understand.”

 

“Nope, not at all. Not like I’m a synth, too or anything.”

 

He froze. “What?”

 

“I get it. The whole ‘If I’m not human, what am I?’ Existential shit. But, eventually, you realize whether you’re made of blood or circuits or any mix of the two it doesn’t really matter. Now, I have shit to do tomorrow. Shut up.”

 

“You’re a synth?”

 

“Shh, soldier boy. Sleeping time.”

 

“But-“

 

She waggled the knife again. “Remember that whole unmaning threat I made?”

 

“Fine. But you will talk to me tomorrow.”

 

The woman grinned and shrugged. “Fine. Tomorrow. Now?”

 

“Sleeping time.”

 

“That’s right.”

 

Danse stared at her while she slept. It was creepy, sure, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to figure her out, to discover whatever it was that she had figured out that he hadn’t yet.

 

An hour later, Nora came by. She crouched down and whispered to him. “Deacon and I are going to take off. You want to head to Sanctuary?”

 

Danse looked down at the woman beside him. “No. I think I’ll stay here.”

 

#

 

Glory sat in the chair, her feet up on the desk. She was bored, and bored was never a good thing for her. Other people had ways to deal with boredom. Deacon played practical jokes, Tinker Tom invited shit, Tommy Whispers used to modify his weapons. Glory though? She only cared about fighting.

 

So boredom had no resolution, save for a new mission.

 

She’d avoided Danse most of the morning. He’d been sitting there when she woke up, a full eight hours later, like no time had passed at all.

 

She had to admit, he made a good bodyguard. At least good enough to keep anyone from crawling into bed with her, and if anyone had to be in bed with her, he wasn’t the worst looking choice she’d seen.

 

Even if he was unpleasant.

 

“You said we would talk.”

 

She smiled. “No, you said we would talk. I slept.”

 

He stared out at the other agents, at the people running around HQ, like he didn’t trust them. She could get that. Trust was hard for people who had their lives ripped away from them. “Please?”

 

“What do you want to talk about? There is no come to Jesus moment for us, soldier boy. We do what we do and then eventually we die. That’s all there is to this.”

 

Finally, he met her gaze. “I’ve never really met a synth before, okay? I’ve hunted them, I’ve hated them, I’ve killed them, but I’ve never spoken to one.”

 

She sighed. Yeah, she’d figured. He was, in many ways, a different breed than she was. She remembered the institute, she remembered her whole life. She hadn’t undergone any memory wipes, so it was all still up there, fucking her at night.

 

But Danse had none of that. He had a story implanted into his mind by some railroad agent somewhere.

 

“Alright, fine. But I don’t know what you’re hoping to figure out, because I’ve got to tell you, I don’t have any answers that are going to help you sleep at night.”

 

Drummer Boy ran up. “A runner tagged a dead drop.”

 

Glory grinned at Danse. She could put all those muscles to use. “Why don’t you come with me? I’m bored, and we can chit chat to your little synthetic heart’s desire on the way.”

 

Danse nodded and gathered his gear.

 

Always the solider boy.


	2. Chapter 2

Danse shoved the dresser in front of the door. Nothing short of a behemoth would be getting through that door. “This is not a good tactical choice for setting up camp.”

 

“Yes. You said that, three times. And I told you this was where I was sleeping and if you didn’t like it, you were welcome to set up a different place.”

 

“It isn’t wise to separate.”

 

“Then quiet down and take a seat.” Glory nodded at the spot beside her.

 

They had cleared the raiders giving runners problems for the safe house, and Danse had to admit, Glory had talent. She also had a death wish.

 

She rushed into any situation with her minigun and a battle cry and little else. She didn’t seem to know what cover was, let alone how to use it. She made Nora look cautious, and he’d once seen Nora throw a rock at a Deathclaw.

 

Danse exited his power armor and sat beside Glory. Through the day, they’d developed a working ease between them, though without the work, tension started to grow.

 

“You should be more careful.”

 

“What?” She unlaced her boots and dropped them beside the fire.

 

“You are not cautious enough when you fight. You could be hurt.”

 

“We could all be hurt. Comes with being alive. I’m a heavy, soldier boy, and that means I get sent in when things have already gone to shit. You’ve traveled with Charmer enough to know how it works.”

 

“You are more than just a heavy, you’re a person.”

 

“Cut the touchy-feely bullshit.” She pulled her socks off and draped them over the shoes to dry. “You don’t know me well enough to try it.”

 

He shut his mouth, jaw tight. He wasn’t the sort of offer advice, and being shut down so quickly stung. “Very well.” He stood to go. . . somewhere. There wasn’t anywhere to go in such a small space, but he couldn’t sit beside her anymore.

 

“Did you rethink your whole storming off thing?”

 

He sighed, crossing his arms. Nora would have let him get away with his fit, but he should have known this woman wouldn’t. She grinned, like he finally amused her, then held up a bottle of bourbon. “Come on, let’s play a game.”

 

He took a step backward. “What game?”

 

“Truth or naked.”

 

“Isn’t that usually or dare?”

 

“Yes, but no one plays truth or dare with me because I’ll take any dare they give. So, we changed it to truth or naked. You ask a question and that person has to answer it or take off a piece of clothing.”

 

“What is the alcohol for?”

 

“Because I doubt you’re getting naked without some help.”

 

“This isn’t an appropriate game for colleagues to play.”

 

“News flash, soldier boy, you’re not Brotherhood anymore. You don’t have to play by their rules. You’re with me now, so you play by my rules, and my rules say play truth or naked.”

 

Danse released a breath but sat across from her. He wanted answers, and if this was the way to get them, he’d take it.

 

#

 

Glory chucked at Danse, who wore nothing but his jeans. He’d skirted the rules, removing each shoe and each sock individually. He’d even taken off his holotags to count as an item.

 

She let him do it, because she knew she could get him naked eventually. The man didn’t like to talk about himself.

 

Meanwhile, Glory had only removed her jacket, the result of asking what her best memory was. How could she admit she didn’t have one? It came across as too fucking depressing.

 

“How many people have you fucked?” She leaned her back against the wall, legs out straight.

 

And wasn’t that blush a thing of beauty? He groaned, looking down at his pants like caught between a rock and a hard place, which if she were honest was a place she wouldn’t mind being with him.

 

“You could keep the pants and just answer. I mean, not that I’m trying to push you in that direction; you’d look damn fine without those things on.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“The number that high?”

 

He shook his head, hands drawing into fists. “No, I just don’t know what is real and what is part of my fake memories. I haven’t been with anyone since joining the brotherhood, but I don’t know before then. My memories, are they real? Did those things happen?” He shrugged but wouldn’t meet her gaze. “So the answer is, I don’t know.”

 

“Shit. I’m sorry. Guess I’m lucky in that way, no fake life story for me. Sure, I remember all the bullshit of the Institute, but at least I know it happened. Do you want to stop the game?”

 

He shook his head. “How many people have you slept with?”

 

She smiled at the way he softened the phrasing. “Lots.”

 

“That isn’t a specific answer. It doesn’t count.”

 

“I think you just want me to take off some more clothing.” She grinned and shimmied out of her pants, happy to skip any steps to prolong the game. She wasn’t shy. “Fine, there you go.”

 

His mouth hung open for a minute before he tore his gaze away from her legs and took a deep breath. “Your turn.”

 

“Do you want Nora?”

 

“Want?”

 

“Yes, like to fuck. Come on, I’m trying to save your delicate sensibilities.”

 

“No. Nora has something with Deacon, I would not get between them.”

 

“That isn’t an answer, that’s an evasion.”

 

He took a drink of the bourbon. “I thought I did, at first. After everything though? No, we are not compatible. She is a good friend and nothing else. Do you regret not having your memories wiped?”

 

Glory shook her head. “No. I mean, what’s up in my head sucks, but it’s mine. It makes me who I am, and by refusing the wipe I can help my people. So, I’ll suffer it.” She shoved aside the thought and grinned. “What’s the square root of 5837?”

 

“What?”

 

“Come on, answer.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

She pointed at his pants. “Then lose those, buddy.”

 

“That is cheating.”

 

“No. That is using everything at my disposal to win. We are railroad, not Brotherhood. As the underdogs, we do what we have to. Now, off.”

 

Danse glared, but stood. He undid the button on his jeans and slid them off. Once off, he folded his hands in front of him as a shield, then sat, shoulder slumped forward.

 

“You’re cute when you pout, which is lucky for you because you pout a lot. Now, your turn.”

 

“What’s the first part of the Codex?”

 

“Finally catching on, huh?” Glory laughed and yanked her shirt off, tossing it at him. “Do you want to fuck me?”

 

He sucked in a breath, eyes wide. Yeah, she’d known that would get a reaction. His options were to answer or take off his last remaining piece of clothing. “You can’t ask that.”

 

Glory laughed. “Look, I’ll have pity on you, okay? You answered your own question.” She nodded at the bulge he tried to cover in his underwear. “Game over, let’s get some sleep.”

 

He muttered as he yanked his clothing back on, turning his back to her. Not that she minded that view of him a bit. The man didn’t have a bad angle. He crawled into his sleeping back, still muttering.

 

“Goodnight, soldier boy.”

 

Silence greeted her at first, and she thought he might not answer. After a minute, a soft, “Goodnight, Glory,” floated through the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Danse grabbed Glory by her jacket and yanked her back. “Get down, damnit!” He’d never met a woman who ignored good sense more than Glory.

 

She swatted his grip but crouched beside him, around the corner of the building. “You’re too damned worried about cover, you know that?”

 

“Cover keeps you alive.”

 

“Cover is bullshit.” She popped out long enough to take out one of the two raiders left.

 

Danse followed her suit and fired at the last one, who collapsed in a heap. “So how exactly do you get things done? What is your brilliant battle plan?”

 

“With a lot of bullets and a lot of blood. And let’s make something clear, I’m not exactly a rookie here. I’ve been a heavy a while now, and despite the Institute trying its damnest to kill me, they haven’t succeeded yet. I must be doing something right. So maybe get off my ass about it?”

 

“I’m not on your ass-“

 

“-pity.”

 

He opened his mouth, then realized what she’d said and shut it again. She did that often, threw out tiny flirts that he was sure didn’t mean a damned thing. Even knowing that, they crawled beneath his guard, made him want to smile, want to flirt back. He knew better, though. “Don’t say that.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I know you don’t mean it.”

 

She cocked a hip out and lifted an eyebrow. “And how do you know that? You a mind reader now?”

 

“Because I’m not a fool. I know what I am, and I know what I am not. I’m an abomination discarded by the only people I cared about. I’m difficult, by the books, not much fun, and rigid in my ways. I’m not the sort of person you would flirt with, so please, refrain from the jokes.”

 

“Rigid, huh?” Glory shoved Danse against the wall, then dropped to her knees in front of him.

 

“What are you doing?” The way his voice cracked had him groaning. Why couldn’t he ever be a calm, collected person in front of her? Hell, he had lead men into battle with less panic than she inspired in him. When around her, he always acted like a teenager, unsure of himself and completely out of his depth.

 

“Well, soldier boy, I’m checking if you’re telling the truth.” She cupped his hardness through his jeans, touch confident. “This seems promising, but I think I need a more thorough evaluation.”

 

Thank god for the wall behind him, because he was sure he’d have fallen over without it. He slid his eyes closed and swallowed, caught between wanting to tell her to stop and begging her to keep going. Instead of making a choice, he clenched his teeth together to keep him silent. He didn’t need to ruin whatever this was but opening his mouth and letting whatever foolishness was in his head stroll out of his mouth.

 

Glory unbuttoned his pants, then drug the zipper down. She pulled his underwear down enough to pull him from the confines of his clothing. When her hand touched his cock, he jerked, startled.

 

She caught his gaze and grinned again, that smile that said she had plans he might not approve of. She’d flashed him the same look before diving out of cover to charge a group of raiders earlier. He was no less nervous now than he had been then.

 

She pressed her tongue against the head of his cock, then slid it along the slit. “Well, I can’t really deny you’re rigid,” she said before repeating the action. The sight of her pink tongue against his cock stole his breath.

 

But, this wasn’t right, was it? They weren’t anything to one another, certainly had no romantic relationship. Was she trying to just be nice? Trying to prove some point? He had no idea what her game was, but he knew he cared about her too much to let her do this if she didn’t really want to.

 

“You don’t have to. . .” his voice trailed off when she slid her lips around the head. His hand reached out and cupped the back of her head, holding her there. “Forget I said that.” His streak of selflessness hadn’t lasted long.

 

She huffed, the motion blowing warm air from her nostrils over his length. He shuddered as she sucked on the head, tongue tracing the underside. Would he ever be able to talk to her again? He was pretty damned sure anytime she spoke he’d just stare at her lips, at her tongue moving behind them, remembering back to this moment, to the softness and heat of her mouth.

 

Damn, had he ever felt anything that good? He had memories, dimmed from time, he assumed, but now he wondered if they’d been real at all. How could he have forgotten so much if it were real? Women whose names he couldn’t quite remember, whose faces were hazy. The only thing he was sure of was that he’d never forget this, never let this memory  of her dim.

 

Glory’s eyes would dart to his, as if checking in. She’d reassure him with a wink, like she knew exactly how unsure he was, how caught between panic and pleasure he was. Her hand rested on his thigh, digging in, grounding him. She took him deeper, using her hand to stroke the base while she worked the top half.

 

He wasn’t going to last, and maybe that should embarrass him, but he didn’t care. His hand tightened behind her head, and he groaned. “I’m close.”

 

She pulled off him, sliding her hand to the head while she continued to stroke him. His head fell back against the wall as he came. His weight rested against the wall, holding him up while he caught his breath.

 

Glory stood, and Danse tucked himself back into his pants. “Thanks,” he said, voice stiff. What did you say to someone after that? Thanks felt cheap, stupid, but he had nothing better, especially with the way she stayed out of the range of his arm.

 

He guessed that answered whether she wanted to go any further, whether she wanted him to return he favor, not that he had a clue how to do that.

 

“For what? I was just checking the validity of your rigid statement. Got to say, you were right about that. Though, you were wrong about the other things.”

 

“What things?” He couldn’t even remember what he’d said anymore.

 

“You aren’t an abomination, and you are fun.”

 

“No one thinks I’m fun. Nora specifically tells me that, often.”

 

Glory shrugged. “Well, her loss, because I just had quite a bit of fun with you.” She tossed him a wink then walked off.

 

Danse didn’t move until she looked over her shoulder. “You coming? Well, I mean, again?”


	4. Chapter 4

 

Glory tried to ignore the way Danse stared at her. She noticed, of course. Being a heavy meant she paid attention to the things around her, including the large and confused paladin behind her.

 

So, blowing him had probably been a bad idea. He wasn’t the sort of man who could separate love and lust, she suspected, but she couldn’t help it. He’d put himself down, for the millionth time, and after their little game, after realizing he might very well be a virgin, she couldn’t help it.

 

She didn’t know shit about love or comfort, but that was one thing she could do.

 

Then he’d tried to pull her in for a kiss, and she’d lost it.

 

Yeah, that had been a mistake.

 

Nothing a little whiskey wouldn’t fix, though.

 

“Have you been here before?”

 

“Yes. Nora comes here on business from time to time.” The distaste in his voice brought a laugh.

 

Yeah, this wasn’t exactly Brotherhood territory. A town full of drifters, chem-addicts and ghouls ran by a ghoul, chem-addict dressed like an old revolutionary war hero wasn’t a place she’d imagine Danse spending much time at. At least not willingly.

 

“Stick close, I’ll keep you safe.”

 

“I can keep myself safe, thank you.”

 

They walked into the gates, and Finn stood up. He took one look at her and sat his ass back down. They’d done this before, and he’d been the one with the big bloody accidents. She flashed him a smile and mocking salute as they walked past.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“To the only place that serves whiskey. Third Rail.”

 

Danse said nothing else until they got inside and Ham stopped them. “No Power Armor.”

 

“Why not? Afraid of what I’ll do?”

 

Ham laughed and shook his head. “No, I’m afraid you’ll step on toes. It’s busy in there.” He tossed Glory a key. “Lock it up in that closet, okay? It’ll be safe there.”

 

Danse looked like he wanted to argue, but he gave in when he realized his options were to leave it or not go with her.

 

He always surprised her when he left the armor. She got so used to looking up into his face, that she failed to realize he was only a little taller than she was normally.

 

They walked down the rest of the steps without comment, the music soaking into her along with the fumes. Glory pointed at a table. “Sit. What do you want?”

 

“I’ll get it.”

 

Glory reiterated the point by shoving his shoulder. “Don’t get all white knight on me, soldier boy. Give me your order or I swear I’ll bring you some fruity cocktail that only Hancock would drink.”

 

“Beer.”

 

She smiled and got the drinks, glad to see him sitting where she’d asked. She stalled and watched him. He looked so fucking uncomfortable, back stiff, eyes watching everyone like anyone might attack. But, damn, she knew that yearning in his eyes, too. The boy wanted to belong, wanted people of his own.

 

Hell, that was probably why he’d gotten caught up with the Brotherhood. If there was one thing she’d learned about synths, it was that they all needed people. No matter who they thought they were, they tried to build families. Danse had done it, but then his family had thrown him out on his ass.

 

She rubbed her palm against her chest and forced herself to get moving again, to try and shove that away. She couldn’t think like that, couldn’t worry about it. Everyone had a shit hand dealt to them.

 

She handed the beer over, smiling when Danse frowned at her bottle of whiskey. Yeah, she planned on putting away a lot of that.

 

#

 

Danse frowned as Glory slept. He’d helped her to their room at The Rexford, after she’d drank far more alcohol than was wise, and gotten her into bed.

 

She’d grabbed his shirt and tried to pull him down, too, but Danse had principles. You didn’t sleep with women who had drank even half what she’d drank.

 

So instead, he sat in the chair and stared at her. She’d slept for a few hours already, twitching some of the time, like she dreamed and it wasn’t good. Then again, she remembered, didn’t she? She not only was a synth who knew she was a synth, but one who had all her memories. She had a whole life up in that head of hers, and judging from the tiny sounds that came from her throat, they weren’t all good memories.

 

Glory bolted up, hands gripping the blanket so tight her knuckles turned white. Her eyes were wide, chest rising and falling in gasping breaths. He could tell a scream stuck in her throat, like she wanted to release it but refused to let it go.

 

“Hey, hey,” he said, voice soft, not wanting to further startle her. You didn’t want to startle any person just woken from a nightmare, but that held more truth when dealing with someone who could kill you. “Just a dream.”

 

She swallowed, eyes tracing the room, like reminding herself of where she was. He could just imagine it, the way she checked for white walls, for people in lab coats, to make sure she wasn’t in the Institute.

 

“Danse?”

 

“Yeah, it’s just me. You were sleeping.” He went to reach out, to set a hand on her shoulder, but pulled it back. He didn’t know what the dream was, and she might not want to be touched.

 

“Say my name.”

 

He frowned. “Glory.”

 

She took a deep breath, then released it. “That’s right. Glory. Not G7-81. Glory.”

 

“G7-81? Was that your designation?”

 

She nodded, her tongue wetting her lips. “Yeah.”

 

“What was your dream about?”

 

“Rainbows and fucking butterflies. What do you think it was about?”

 

Yeah, stupid question. People didn’t wake up from dreams like that unless they were stuck in a very vivid hell. He reached out, slow enough she could tell him to stop, and touched her arm.

 

She jerked her gaze down to it, frowning. “We’re just fuck buddies. You know that, right? You know that’s all this is.”

 

“I like you. I haven’t liked a great many people, but I like you.”

 

She pulled her arm away in a rough jerk. “Well too fucking bad. I’m not. . . this isn’t. . . look, that isn’t going to happen. I get it, you’re a stray, sniffing around to see who will keep you. Well, guess what? It won’t be me.” She stood, starting to gather her things, shoving them into her backpack in quick motions.

 

Danse stood and tried to push away the sting at her rejection, at her words. Her chest pounded, cheeks flushed. She was upset, fleeing, and that was more important than hurt feelings.

 

“Why don’t you lie back down. We can discuss this tomorrow, once you’ve slept off the whiskey.”

 

“I don’t want to discuss this tomorrow. I want to leave.”

 

He placed himself in front of the door, blocking her escape. He needed her to listen, to hear him. “You had a nightmare. That isn’t the time to rush out into the night on your own.”

 

Glory slung the backpack over her shoulder and shoved him. “It’s the perfect time to run. Don’t you get it? I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. Why don’t you stop following me and find someone who actually wants you around!”

 

Her words drove him back more than her shove had.

 

A flash of regret spread over her face before she turned and walked out of the room, the steady thud of her footsteps down the stairs to only thing left of her.

 

Danse collapsed back down into the chair, head dropping into his hands. 

 

Yet another person throwing him away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize the nightmare scene was similar to the Glory/Arthur scene, and that is because i sort of cannibalized this for that fic with that scene, but i didn't want to remove it from here.


End file.
